No Heat

If given a choice, which I am usually not, I’d rather teach in a cold room than a hot one. The kids complain, of course, but they also complain if it is too hot, or too boring, or the lights are on, or the lights are off, or if it is Tuesday, so I don’t worry about that very much. As I am the one dashing back and forth all over the classroom like a deranged pinball machine ball, I get overheated. My body has never adjusted well to temperatures, so in a hot classroom, I end up feeling sick by the end of the day in a hot room. If I have to put my coat and hat on in the classroom, I’ll feel a lot better. (Either way, my feet will hurt, but that is another slice altogether.)

So, usually, I prefer a cold room.


As we returned from Spring Break last week, some sort of water leak was discovered in the walls, and the heat had to be shut off for my entire wing of the building. Not only was it cold in the classrooms, it was also cold by the heaters in the hallway. The students complained even more than usual, as it was clearly my personal fault that they were cold. They demanded that I adjust the thermostat. They did not believe me that my classroom does not have a thermostat, and that teachers have zero control over their environments. (Come to think of it, many of my non-teacher friends find that unbelievable too.) Strangely, or maybe not so strangely, it got colder and colder all week. By Friday, it was colder inside than outside. Yesterday, despite some false spring and sunshine over the weekend, it was even MORE cold than outside, and windy to boot. Brrrr.

Today, we had some false spring again, and I left home without my coat, knowing (ha!) that it was going to be warm and I would be fine. This worked out great in my car. It has heated seats. When I stepped out of my car at school, in my parking space that feels miles from the building door, it did not feel so nice. The sun was behind a cloud again, and it was quite nippy. I hustled as fast as I could under the physical and emotional load of my bag full of ungraded papers, and got inside. Where it was…even colder than before.

It turned out that the blustery storm from the night before had led to a power outage for several hours at the school yesterday evening. The warmer parts of the building were not wafting warm air into my corner of the building, because there were no warmer parts of the building. My classroom felt like I could freeze water in it. To make matters worse, the power outage did something inexplicable to the boiler, and there was not going to be any warm air until it could be fixed. I wished I had worn my coat, so I could put it back on in my classroom.

Did the students whine and complain? Nope. They did not even notice.

The End

We once again come to the end of March and our month of slicing. I have very mixed feelings. I’ve been participating in the March Slice of Life Story Challenge for several years (5 or 6, at least), and last year and this year are the two in which I did not write every day.

Last year, I was teaching 8th grade from home while simultaneously monitoring every aspect of my 5th grader’s online education, I developed pneumonia, rushed my child having seizures to the ER, and spent a lot of all-nighters at the emergency vet hospital for an end-of-life but beloved cat, so I think everyone agreed that the fact that I missed a few days here and there was understandable.

This year, though, is more nebulous. The point of the challenge, and the joy in it, is sticking to what you have pledged to do, and working through the tough spots when you have nothing to say. In the past, some of my best writing came from days on which I struggled to write. (Some of the worst writing too. 😀) I always enjoyed the challenge and the ability to write, which was something I had lost time for over the increasingly busy years.

This year, there were days where I just could not do it. I could not bring myself to stare at the blank screen and conjure words, and I am disappointed in myself as a result.

It is hard.

It is hard to write cheerful or thoughtful or insightful stories about education when it feels like the education system is falling apart around you.

It is hard to summon the memories of the funny things students say or do when the pressing issues of families in crisis, students who may be suicidal, fights breaking out on campus, and aggression, disrespect and defiance on levels you’ve never seen before plague your day-to-day work in the classroom, drain you of emotional energy, and warp every perception you have of your ability to build relationships, support kids, and teach well.

It is hard to write about family when you are so exhausted from pandemic parenting that you just want to nap for three weeks and not speak to anyone at all.

It is hard to channel creativity and craft it into something interesting and new, melding words and emotions into a poem or a story, when you are discouraged and confused.

It is hard.

But I made it through the month, and did write almost every day. I read and commented and read some more. It was nice to read that I was not alone in feeling as overwhelmed as I do. It was sad, but comforting, to realize that the struggles in classrooms are happening everywhere, not just in mine. I re-read my own writing from last year and realized how far we have come in a year. Hard as this month has been, I would not want to relive March of 2021 at all. I thank all of you for being here, and sharing your struggles and joys, and helping me spend a bit of time on most days doing something that is important to me, just as me.

I will keep writing.

I will once again try to keep slicing on Tuesdays. (And I may very well once again forget to do it by 9pm my time every week, but I will try, and I will read the slices from those of you who do consistently write every week.)

I will be back next March, for more slices.

Au revoir. May the next year bring us all health, prosperity, and a return to some type of normality.

Today Is…

A woken from sleep to fix a nightmare day

A spill tea on the cat day

A road closed on the way to school day

A give the sixth graders scissors day

A pick up scraps of paper day

A work through lunch day

A meeting in my prep day

A when do I have time for 99 emails day

A child playing manipulator day

A whining at dinner day

A bloody nose at bedtime day

A “mom, mom, mom!” every time I turn around day

A blurry vision, need new glasses day

A cats fighting in the hallway day

Today is…


Ode to the Nap

After a long day
Of work
Of questions
Of running





I put my feet up
and closed my eyes.

Kiddo narrated
video games

Cats crawled 


batting me


everyone went outside

and for a while

a short while

I put my feet up
and closed my eyes





A Borrowed Idea

Today, I am borrowing Karyn in the Kitchen’s 4-4-4 writing idea, which she borrowed from someone who borrowed from someone, etc.

4-4-4: choose 4 things within 4 feet and write for 4 minutes. (Except I cheated and wrote for more than four minutes.)

Ariella. I have been home for ten minutes, so our butterball tuxedo cat is sitting on me, purring her head off. I had to turn to the side to keep my laptop out of her reach, so she is precariously balanced on my hip, sitting in cat loaf formation, unwilling to move while I am here. She will not move for hours if I hold still, and she will look betrayed and broken-hearted if I move.

Books. Duh. If you know anything at all about me, this is no surprise. I currently have two books that I am about to start (really, I swear), three that I am in the middle of, three that I have read half of but have not dipped my toes into for a couple of years, one short story collection that I finished re-reading this past weekend, my iPad with one nearly finished and two newly checked out library books on my Kindle app, and seven brand new books that are in a stack to be admired for a while before being sorted into my unread books bookcases. Those beautiful covers won’t appreciate themselves!

Knitting Projects. I work on knitting projects like I read books – a little here, a little there, start the new shiny thing, revisit that one that only needs two hours of work to finish. I keep my “currently knitting” projects next to the bed. At the moment, this seems to include five different holiday season knit-a-long projects that showcase five different sets of “Advent Calendar” yarn collections. (Honestly, the most exciting Christmas thing that has happened to me as an adult was the discovery that many people create Advent calendars with YARN in them! This year, I had three. Plus two LEGO calendars, which were, of course, for my son, and did not in any way involve me playing with little LEGO figures and creating scenes on a daily basis.) I also have two additional shawls in progress. All of these involve varying quantities of beautifully colored yarn, so I have much color and sparkle to admire on a regular basis. We will not say a word about the box of “return to finish soon” projects that is stashed under the bed. Soon is relative, since I plan to live forever to read all the books and knit all the things.

Blankets. The cats and I both appreciate cozy and soft blankets. (My husband does not seem to care how soft they are, as long as the cats and I don’t hog them all.) The cats have strong opinions about us leaving at least one window open during the night so they can monitor nocturnal critters, make sure there is still air outside, and fight over which one gets to sit on the windowsill, because sharing is for dogs. I love the warm weight of a big pile of soft blankets over me while cold air wafts in through the window. Since I usually also have a cat or two piled up on me as well, I am kept warm and toasty.

Lasts and Firsts

Today was the last day of my spring break, and the first day of my son’s spring break. Yeah, that didn’t work out well this year. I did, however, get three days all to myself, which has been a godsend. Time to just sit and think and do and be without having to keep listening, looking, monitoring, observing, answering, asking, feeding, nagging… It’s been a long, long time since I had a stretch of days where the majority of my time was mine alone.

I was supposed to have four days, but on one of them, I had a child who woke in the night and decided that the best way to deal with insomnia was to read for several hours. As it was the middle of the night, no one else suggested otherwise. You can image the general state of him in the morning. After a while, I gave up and sent him back to bed. (But I am evil, so I also got a lot of his work from his teacher and made him do homework in the afternoon.)

Today, I was not sure what we would do. Although he will get to do two special camp weeks at his school, they are four day weeks and shorter than normal days, so he will also spend a lot of time hanging out in Dad’s office. I feel guilty. I really do, despite how much I enjoyed having time to myself. He does not get a long stretch of time to just hang out and be. Of course, he’s 11 and has way more energy than I do, so hanging out lasts for about 20 minutes. So today, I resolved to spend a lot of time with him.


built trains

played with LEGO

watched cartoons

watched YouTube (God help me!)

worked in the garden

ate lunch

(but not with our tentatively planned road trip to the nearest In n Out Burger, 50 miles away)

played a made up game in the yard

played with the cats

did not buy new fish

did not buy stuffies

did not buy seeds and garden dirt

did not buy toys



gave Mom a little bit of quiet time.

One Spring Day

It was spring today, briefly. Although it drizzled through the fog in the morning, by lunchtime, the clouds and fog were gone and the sun was shining in a dazzling blue sky. It reached 66 degrees, a temperature not seen for many, many months. I threw open all the windows, and the cats got so excited that they forgot to follow me everywhere like my own small parade. I relaxed and finished a novel. The cats hung out in the catio, soaking up the unfamiliar rays. The daffodils are blooming and the tulips and trees are budding. We ate dinner outside, Miles played on the trampoline, and I was demoted from throwing water balloons. It was perfect. And brief. The weather report from the local news just popped up on my phone, and it says “Hope you enjoyed the afternoon. Wednesday will be a lot different.” Spring in Oregon is not so much a season as an ephemeral moment. Enjoy it while it lasts.

Aliza soaking in the rays in her outdoor cat palace.
“So much sun. I must corkscrew a few more times around.”


Finish dinner
Clear the table
Knit with TV
Play with LEGO.

Time to slow it down, boy.
Time to let it rest.
Time to settle down now.
Time to get some rest.

Pick up the LEGO
Go and take a bath
"Wait, my nose is bleeding!"
There goes my night, alas.

Time to slow it down, boy.
Time to let it rest.
Time to settle down now.
Time to get some rest.

Stop playing with the cat now
It's time to take that bath
"No, my nose, it bleeds again
And can I have a snack?"

Time to slow it down, boy.
Time to let it rest.
Time to settle down now.
Time to get some rest.

Blood and hunger both are quenched
Now time to take that bath
It's past bedtime already
No more excuses in your path!

Time to slow it down, boy.
Time to let it rest.
Time to settle down now.
Time to get some rest.

The bath is warm,
The bed is cozy,
Time to sleep is here at last…

But will it ever come to pass?

A Mother’s Epic

Sing unto me, O Muse,
Of a mother's challenge
Against a mighty foe
The fierce and ubiquitous plastic LEGO.

The rosy fingers of Dawn creep forth
Retreat, and return again.
To battle she must go.
She girds her loins and ventures forth
Unto the lair of terror, home of the
Stubborn and oft-messy Miles.
With the strength of virtue and 
Blessing of the great god, Dad,
The fierce one tempered her steps toward danger,
Confident of her worth in the face of the challenge.

Armed with fortitude and
The great bin, LEGO Holder,
She scopes the scene for signs of danger.
The LEGO mess is a mighty horde,
But fierce is her belief and determination.
Entering with bin in hand,
She crunches the remains of past battles, 
Never surrendering to faint-heartedness.
Surveying the scene, she chooses the point of battle.
And soon is surrounded, enemies on all sides.
Above her peer the heads and bodies,
Her right flank blocked by the Wheel Mountain,
Foothills of beams and flats in many colors.
Her left flank threatened by the encroaching horde,
Clothes surging from the dresser drawers,
Into the day's melee.
From 'neath the hostile Debris Sea
Rise the crackers of golden fish,
The dirty socks,
The missing dishes.
Yet the multi-headed foe will not triumph.
Supported by the holy Trash Can,
Valorous LEGO Holder scoops and moves,
Dodges the cotton avalanche.
A warrior mother gives no quarter.

Fighting filth finished,
LEGO vanquished, and clothes forced into retreat,
The fearsome vacuum, long absent from this land,
Returns to decimate the dust of battle.
Soft breezes from the sweet-breathed goddess of spring
Caress the room, freshening the air.

Triumphant, the warrior mother dives
In the cool, clear waters showering
Forth from the city water supply,
Emerges, clean and triumphant,
Heralded with tea and novel,
The battle won,
If not the war.